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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303205">In Plain Sight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum'>WastingYourGum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:33:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft invites a late night visitor in for a drink...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes &amp; Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Plain Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to Mice for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mycroft jerked awake as he heard the unfamiliar noise of his front doorbell. He'd dozed off in his study. Again. This really was intolerable.</p><p>He rubbed his eyes and cursed the nascent headache behind them as he checked the security camera. God, he'd <em>kill</em> for a drink right now.</p><p>The figure on his doorstep was hunched over, trying to avoid a persistent drizzle of the type England excelled at, but still recognisable.</p><p>He made his way to the door, opened it and greeted his visitor. "DI Lestrade. What can I do for you?"</p><p>"Mr Holmes. Thought you might want an update on that fella who had a pop at Sherlock earlier."</p><p>"That's kind of you but I'm sure it would have waited until tomorrow."</p><p>Lestrade shrugged. "I was in the area anyway so..."</p><p>"Well, I'm sure you'd appreciate a cup of tea or perhaps something a bit stronger?"</p><p>"Wouldn't say no, ta."</p><p>Mycroft got a few paces down his hallway before realising Lestrade wasn't following. He had paused and turned to look at something further up the road. "Do come in Lestrade, I promise I don't bite."</p><p>"Sorry. Yeah. Thought I heard… No, it's nothing." Lestrade snapped his attention back to Mycroft, hopped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. "Funny you should say that," he commented, as he removed and hung up his overcoat. "Mr Halford is still telling anyone who'll listen that your brother is Dracula reincarnated. Think he has a pretty good chance of an insanity plea."</p><p>Mycroft led him into the study and proceeded to pour a glass of whisky which he handed to Lestrade.</p><p>"You're not having one yourself?" Lestrade asked.</p><p>"No, I need to keep my head clear. Still working." And alcohol would do him absolutely no favours, but Lestrade didn't need to know that.</p><p>"Oh, well, cheers." Lestrade took a swig and closed his eyes as the whisky slipped down. "Mmm."</p><p>Mycroft forced himself to ignore the long line of Lestrade's neck. "Is Mr Halford basing these claims on anything more than Sherlock's skin tone and love of dramatics?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah. Tried to claim he'd been bitten but there's nothing on his neck where he says it happened.</p><p>"You actually checked?"</p><p>"He may be talking bollocks but it's still an alleged assault. I had to."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"Anyway, other than a few splinters from trying to stop Halford staking him, Sherlock's fine. Mortally offended at being called a vampire, but fine."</p><p>"And Dr Watson?"</p><p>"As amused by the whole thing as I am. Halford called him a, what was it, a <em>thrall</em> and said Sherlock had 'charmed him into being his defender'."</p><p>"To be fair to him, that's not entirely untrue."</p><p>Lestrade chuckled. "No. I suppose not."</p><p>"And none of your colleagues are inclined to take Mr Halford's word on this?"</p><p>"Nah, I'm sure Sherlock will get some jokes directed at him for the next few weeks but no matter how much he fits the profile, nobody seriously thinks he's a vampire."</p><p>"I'm relieved to hear it. I'd hate to have to bite them all."</p><p>Lestrade choked on his drink and looked up sharply.</p><p>Mycroft arched an eyebrow and waited.</p><p>"Ha! Joking. Right." Lestrade wiped his chin, looking relieved.</p><p>"Of course." Mycroft smiled. "Although, I suppose if one were looking for vampires, Sherlock would certainly seem to be a stereotypical candidate."</p><p>"Yeah but see, that's where the public gets it wrong. One of the first things they teach you at Hendon is that stereotypes can be dangerous. Preconceived notions are the bane of good police work. However, in other situations, they can be very handy."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"You hear 'vampire', your thoughts turn to someone thin, pale, aloof, never seems to eat anything, spends nearly all his time in a subterranean bunker…" Lestrade smirked.</p><p>"Are you implying--?"</p><p>"Nope, quite the opposite. I mean, no one would suspect someone who takes a tan really easily and eats garlic-laden Italian food like it's going out of fashion, would they? Someone who wears a silver cross on a chain, frequently works outdoors in broad daylight..."</p><p>The back of Mycroft's thighs hit the edge of his desk. He hadn't even realised he'd been slowly edging away from Lestrade, nor that Lestrade had been pressing forward to stay so close to him.</p><p>"If everybody is looking for one thing, you can hide in plain sight as the other. Little trick I taught your brother, though he has no idea how well I use it myself."</p><p>"If this is some kind of joke, Lestrade, it's in--"</p><p>"Oh, I'm as serious as a heart attack right now, Mycroft." Lestrade grinned wolfishly at him and Mycroft noticed his canines did seem rather more pronounced than before.</p><p>"You're… you're..."</p><p>Lestrade nodded slowly.</p><p>"You can't be."</p><p>"Because?"</p><p>"There's no such thing."</p><p>"Of course there isn't. Ghost stories and fairy tales. Could you take your tie off for me, Mycroft?"</p><p>"I most certainly will not."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>Mycroft looked down at his tie which now lay neatly folded across Lestrade's open palm and not around his neck where it had been only moments ago.</p><p>"How did you…?"</p><p>"I'm just good at asking for things. I think the saying is 'puppy dog eyes'."</p><p>Mycroft looked back up. Lestrade's eyes were their usual amber brown but the colour deepened through mahogany to an almost fiery red at the very edge of the pupil.</p><p>"You like my eyes, don't you, Mycroft?"</p><p>"Yes." He couldn't take his own off them. They were so warm and soothing…</p><p>"You like me."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"I can tell. And I don't even have to make you do it - which is the nice part. Although you always fight me on the tie."</p><p>"I… what?"</p><p>"It's alright, Mycroft, relax. Just tip your head to the side a bit for me… there."</p><p>Mycroft was vaguely aware that he ought to be panicking over something but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.</p><p>And then Lestrade was kissing his neck which was… wonderful. Odd, but wonderful… and God, quite arousing… <em>Oh</em>!</p><p>"Relax. This should be the last time… Enjoy it."</p><p>The last? There had been others? What..?</p><p>"Shh."</p><p>Oh, Oh <em>god</em>, that felt...</p><p>"So yeah, Sherlock's fine, John's fine, Halford's a loony - but fine - and I'm going to go home and sleep off this excellent whisky before dealing with the paperwork in the morning."</p><p>Mycroft started.</p><p>He'd completely lost his train of thought. That would have been unheard of previously but was happening more and more recently.</p><p>"You alright, Mycroft?" Lestrade was sitting across the desk from him, hunched forward, rolling the empty tumbler between his fingers.</p><p>"Yes. Yes, I… Sorry. Been working too much recently. Busy time."</p><p>"Long night for you too, eh?"</p><p>"And an early appointment tomorrow, I'm afraid."</p><p>"Ah - I know a polite fuck off when I hear one."</p><p>"No, no, I--"</p><p>"Kidding, Mycroft." Lestrade laughed. "I'll see myself out, don't worry. You look done in."</p><p>Mycroft couldn't argue with that, though it felt a different sort of tired to the one the drugs had been inducing lately.</p><p>Lestrade looked just as exhausted. Mycroft suddenly doubted his story that he'd just been in the area. "Thank you, Lestrade. I really do appreciate everything you do for Sherlock, and myself by extension."</p><p>"Ah, you're welcome. Good night, Mycroft. Sleep well."</p><p>That should be no problem at all. Mycroft hauled himself sluggishly up the stairs and collapsed into bed.</p><p> </p><p>"Full remission? You're sure?"</p><p>"I've run the tests three times, Mr Holmes.Congratulations."</p><p>"But I thought you said this regimen was about delaying the effects, not curing. You said there was no cure."</p><p>"I honestly hadn't held out much hope of this treatment doing anything - it's still very experimental - but the tests are unequivocal. Of course we'll still need to monitor you very carefully in case of a recurrence but for now… well, I dislike the word miracle but there's not really another one for it."</p><p>"Supernatural, perhaps?" Now why did that word suddenly pop into his head?</p><p>"If you like. Whatever it is, you're a lucky man, Mr Holmes."</p><p>"Thank you, Doctor."</p><p>Mycroft shook the physician's hand, collected his coat from reception and stepped out on to Harley Street.</p><p>Full remission. A reprieve of his death sentence - and before he'd been forced to let anyone know. Lucky indeed.</p><p>Come to think of it he had been feeling better ever since… It must have been that night Lestrade came round to talk about Sherlock and the man who'd suspected him of being a vampire.</p><p>Perhaps… given his new lease of life, it might finally be time to invite the Detective Inspector to dinner and see where things led.</p><p>Mycroft smiled as he resolved to do exactly that. He may even make a few more Dracula jokes.</p><p><em>Vampires</em>. Hah!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Could belong to the same world as <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449681">this prior work</a> but could also be separate... Up to you!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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